


Dante's Inferno

by casstayinmyass



Category: Beetlejuice (1988)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Backstory, Beetlejuice Is Fucking Horny, Blow Jobs, Brothels, Canon Compliant, Demon Sex, F/M, Face-Fucking, Floor Sex, Fluff and Smut, Ghost Sex, Ghost!Beej, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Prostitution, Riding, Smut, Strip Tease, Strippers & Strip Clubs, demon!reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-23 00:50:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18538930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass
Summary: Spending your undead life working at a brothel in the Neitherworld isn’t the worst. It gets even better when an old friend pays you a visit at work.





	Dante's Inferno

**Author's Note:**

> Based on that one scene where the brothel shows up in the movie!

ou wave goodbye to Marcel, the vampire you usually get on Tuesdays. He’s a regular (nice man) but he’s into biting. You don’t mind– thankfully though, your madam, Madam Bones, knows a bit of cosmetic witchcraft, to get you fixed up before the next client.

You’ve been working here at Dante’s Inferno Room for years, ever since you came of age. It’s a fun way to pay the bills, and the characters you meet along the way are well worth it. Most of them have had a lifetime of experience with women too, seeing as they’re all dead, so the actual work isn’t too bad either. Dante’s is a highly exclusive club, that can only be conjured by few, and gossip floats around the Neitherworld establishment, as freely as a ghost who hadn’t learned the gravity incantation.

Every girl in this place seemed to dream of the ‘dead’s most eligible bachelor’– but nobody says his name, for some reason. It was a jinx, a curse or something to say it. You’re curious just who the man behind the myth is.

You let Madam Bones heal your neck, and she checks the time on a watch with spinning hands.

“Elliot Mortescue will be here shortly,” she announces to you, “He’s requested you specifically.” Elliot is a dead baron– a bit of a stuffy ghoul, and you assume he wasn’t that much more fun in life than he is in the bedroom dead. But, he pays well, and he’s also a regular, so you don’t mind how he always asks for you. He says he likes your horns best. 

Elliot arrives, and you smile, beckoning with your signature plumping of your breasts and pouting. He smirks, taking off his top hat and stalking over to you, when you suddenly hear something outside.

About three of the girls are out on the verandas, luring someone in. The music of the place gets just a little bit louder, and you walk out past the less-than-pleased baron to see. 

Standing on the balcony, you look down, and see a man who accomplishes a near impossible feat– makes you quiver. 

“It’s him,” your fellow dancer and coworker whispers, making sure her horns are brushed off, “It’s–”

Another girl puts her hands over her mouth. She frowns, grows out her fangs, and snaps down. The second girl scowls, and shakes her hand.

“Don’t say his name!”

“That’s…?” you whisper, looking down.

“Uh huh,” the second girl nods. “The ghost with the most. Any girl in here would just  _die_ for a night with him.”

You see the ghost start to dance toward you, strange spikes protruding from his jacket. They disappear though, and you can hear the excited grunts coming from him as he slicks back his wild white hair. 

“Mm… ooh, yeah…” He shakes his hips as he finally enters, and he rubs his hands together. “Ah, ladies. Ladies! I’m feelin’ a little…  _anxious_ , if ya know what I mean.”

A bunch of the demon girls giggle, and some others roll their eyes, though not without a sideways glance. The ghost grabs his crotch, and nods. “Oof, uh huh! I’m definitely in need of a little love, girls. It’s been too long. Years. Hundreds of years, ya don’t know what it’s like!”

“Ohhh,” everyone fawns over him, and he makes a show of choosing a girl. You watch him closely as he looks around, narrowing your eyes. He looks… familiar.

“Mmm, you look like a freak! But  _you’re_ real spooky, babe, maybe I should…” He trails off, and his eyes stop on you. “Ooh. Ooh, yeah.” He licks his lips, shooting you finger guns. “I have GOT to go with you, babes. Knocking me outta the park with that look, holy, is it blazing like the fiery pits of hell in here, or is it just me, huh?”

Everyone else moans and sighs that he picked you, muttering about how all of the best always choose you. You just take this ghost by the collar, leading him up to a luxury bedroom. Once you’re inside, you grin, pushing him up against the door. 

“What would you like, and how would you like it?” you drawl. His eyes fly down to your breasts, and he palms himself. 

“Mmm… I could probably finish just watchin’ ya stand there, to be honest, babes…”

You pout, circling him and nudging him away from the door. “But you don’t want that. And I don’t want that. I want you to finish inside me.”

He groans, a sound that goes straight to your pussy. The more you look at him in the hellish candlelight, the more attractive he gets. Although… there’s something about him that’s oddly familiar.

“I know watcha mean,” he growls, looping his arm around your waist and dipping you back, “But it’d still be hot, wouldn’t it?”

You lick your lips. “Oh, yes. You, sitting on the edge of the bed…” you walk him over like a dog on a leash, and sit him down, smoothing your hands down his shoulders, “…watching as I put on a little show…” You start to strip, opening up your shirt to expose your bra. The ghost is practically salivating by now, but you put your foot up, keeping it on his chest. “Ah ah. You wanted to watch. So watch.”

You snap your panties against your ass, and unhook your bra, turning around and winking. He’s dying to see you from the front. You toss the garment back, and squeeze your ass for him, moaning softly, imagining it’s him. He curses under his breath, and you hear the telltale sound of him rubbing one off. You hold up a finger.

“You know the rules.”

He stops, and you finally turn, striding over to him. You get on top of him, straddling him, and barely touch his lips with yours. 

“Hooo,” the ghost sighs, “I am gonna need a good millennium to get over those tits, babe.” You kiss him gently on the nose, leading his hands up your torso. 

“Maybe more.” You squeeze your breasts with his hands, and he groans even louder. 

“Fuck. I wanna fuckin’ break this bed with you, babygirl,” he growls, teeth gnashing. He’s lost his playful side– he wants you bad now. Arousal spreads through you as you drag down between his legs, kneeling. You quirk and eyebrow, and he licks his lips again, voice register dropping down to a regular tone. 

“Detours are fine too, however.” You take him out of his pants, and he gasps at the contact. “Fuckin’ yeah. C’moooon, baby. Give me summa that,” he cackles, resting his hands behind his head as he leans against some invisible force keeping him upright. You put your hand on his knee, and use the other to take his cock in your hand, sliding your wet mouth down over it. “Holy fuckin’ shit,” he murmurs, “Yeah, that’s what I’m talkin’ about… this was worth the wait, you better believe it, mmmm!” 

You suck him until he’s clutching at the bed and knocking his hips up so fast you can’t breathe. You pop off, shooting him a dirty look, and he runs a hand through his hair. “Wassamatter? I facefuck you too rough?” He sets off cackling again, so you climb on top once more.

“Fuck me. Hard. Now.”

“Can’t disappoint the lady,” he smirks, and grabs you by the hips, flipping you over so he’s on top of you. You lean up to kiss him, but just as you do, you notice something. He does as well. He notices a small tattoo, right under your ear. His eyes widen, and yours do too. 

It all hits you too fast, like the car that hit you on the bridge. 

“Beetlejuice?” you murmur. He swallows, worry in his eyes. 

“Uh. Oops. She said it once, I can forgive it. Twice, well–”

“Beetlejuice,” you clench your jaw, and he lets out a high pitched squeal. 

“Babes, wait–!” he blurts, and holds his hands up as he topples off the bed. You look over the edge, accusation in your eyes. 

“You better give me  _one_  good reason not to say it one more time and send your ass back to that model!” 

“I’ll, uh… give ya the best orgasm you’ve had in your whole undead existence?” A pillow hits him in the face, exploding with dust. He coughs. “Evidently, that was not a good reason.” 

“You LEFT me!” you shout. To hell with your job. To hell with the money you would’ve gotten for finishing him off– you’re pissed. 

When you die, you forget things. You forget who you loved, who meant the most to you. You retain some of who you are, but not a lot sticks in the afterlife, here in the Neitherworld. The workers at the office see to that. 

But the cracks all seem to be getting bigger, letting little fragments through. You used to babysit for the Maitlands’ newborn. You were between jobs, and needed the money… you had known Barbara from saying hi at the local grocery mart, and after that, you had practically lived at their old house, as a live-in nanny. 

_Until…_

You were in that accident. The car, the bridge, the river… you had drowned, you weren’t hit by a car. You were  _in_ the car! You had ended up here in the working class of the Neitherworld, and… well, you had no idea where the Maitlands ended up, after they also died in the same accident. As far as you know, their baby had been adopted by the family who moved in… though that was just a rumor from Juno. 

But Beetlejuice… you had met the ghost in the model, one night when you were lonely. Everyone else had been sleeping… he had found you, calling out softly for someone, and you had started some kind of strange affair. After a while, you started to develop feelings for him. Then he disappeared. 

“Hello?? Dead guy with a boner lyin’ on the ground!” Beetlejuice shouts, and you very nearly smother him with another pillow. He jumps up, covers his crotch, and sighs. “Look. (y/n). Before ya kill me again, I… I had to go!”

“Why?” 

“I just!” He clenches his jaw, shaking. “I can’t answer you! I can’t tell ya, alright?!”

“Why not?” 

“Babes…” He sighs, seeing there was no way of getting around this. “I started to… feel stuff for you. I couldn’t stay, cause you were alive! You couldn’t fall in love with a dead guy. Young hot thing like you… much rather pay to bang demon chicks for the rest of eternity.” He realizes the irony of this, and looks you over, cringing. “How the hell did you become a  _demon_?!”

“Probably by fucking a ghost,” you growl, walking him up against the wall with a finger pointed at his neck. He manages a nervous smile. 

“Touche.” He sighs again, brushing hair out of your face. You find yourself leaning into the touch. “Honey, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry! I am. I’m just a mess. Alright? I’m a dirty mess who knows I fuck up so bad all the time that I don’t deserve a… perfect girl like you.” 

You look into his eyes, and smirk. “You want me to start playing the violin?” 

He starts to smile, then laughs. You laugh as well, and his usual pizazz is back. He wraps his arms tight around you, then starts mouthing kisses up your neck. You moan, remembering how many times sex had been initiated like this. Your pussy is responding to the memories coming back as well– with every touch from Beetlejuice, you remember one more little thing he used to do in bed to drive you wild. 

You both fall to the floor, fuck the bed, and you get on top of him, lowering yourself onto his cock. You lean forward so your breasts are in his face, and he lets out an excited holler. 

“Yeeeah!!” He buries his face in your breasts, motor boating. “I’ve always wanted to do that.” He licks your nipples, sucking them into his mouth and grazing them with his teeth. You can’t get over his horny, salacious expression, like he wants you so bad, he needs you, he can’t get enough. You rock down, biting your lip, and he grabs your horns, holding on for the ride as you both move in time with one another, as if no time had gone by at all. 

“Baby, baby,” he moans, “Ya gotta forgive me. I’m so fucking horny for you, I gotta come.”

“Come inside me, Beetlejuice.” Just then, in a flash of light, you both appear somewhere else. You look around, and he starts to laugh his ass off. “What?” you mutter, frowning at the plastic graveyard behind you. 

“Ya said my name the third time!” he snorts. You turn to see his grave, and a couple of model houses. You laugh as well, and lean down, slamming your lips into his hard. He groans, hands going to your hips, and he gropes you as he pants your name and comes. He thrusts his hips up hard, and you gasp too, coming just as hard as he does. 

You roll off, laying back on the uncomfortable plastic turf. “Well. You owe me my day’s wages.”

He smirks, ogling down your naked body and feeling a hand down it. “Happy to pay up. Just lemme pop down to my humble abode…” You roll over closer to him, cuddling into his arm as he brushes his nose against yours. “Wanna stay for awhile? Hope you like Italian.” 

You hear a soft male voice. “What’s…?” You look up to see two people towering over you– a familiar couple. “(y/n)! It’s been… years!” 

“Barb? Adam?” you shriek, and Beej snaps his fingers fast, getting a dress on you. It’s two sizes too small, hugging you way too tight, but he just shrugs with a nasty smirk. The two ghosts above you look at each other, to you, then to Beetlejuice. 

“Please tell me you didn’t corrupt our innocent babysitter, you horrible banshee,” Barbara snaps. Beej just grins in smug satisfaction, zipping himself up. 

“Actually, Bab– (y/n) corrupted me.” Shrieking laughter echoes through the model, as the ghostly couple shake their heads at what their afterlife had become. 


End file.
